


litost.

by holdingnotoyou



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blurryface Era, Brief self-harm mentions, Comfort, Gen, Hallucinations, Insecurity, Male Friendship, Religious Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 07:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18245507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holdingnotoyou/pseuds/holdingnotoyou
Summary: "I am your creation."





	litost.

The world turns on its axis.

Tyler’s falling. 

Suspended in darkness, Tyler feels as if there’s something to be said about a liminal space such as this. He thinks he may be in space, waiting for the steady combustion of his own atoms crackling in on themselves, but there are no stars. There’s no planets to look out at, not how it is at his parents home where there’s a telescope in the backyard and he can see Mars with a vague clarity. He doesn’t know if he’s sitting or standing, doesn’t know where his limbs end and the darkness that surrounds him begins. 

Maybe he is the darkness. 

Maybe he’s the one thing that he swore to himself he’d never succumb to, the one person he prayed and begged and bled to not become. Maybe this is the transition into something darker, something more eager to swallow him whole and spit out his bones like a wolf feeding on its prey. He remembers the incessant grip around his throat, the phantom touch that lingered along his skin as he wrote. Words were produced but also lost beyond the realm of his mind, they were rhymes that didn't quite make sense, songs that didn't quite meet standards. He remembers Josh telling him it would be fine, that a concept album could make sense if they did it in the right way, and Tyler remembers the touch against his shoulder, a gentle brush of the skin before he had disappeared into the abyss that was their shared studio space. 

The mere thought of Josh sends a spark of light through the darkness, scattered light disappearing into the depths of the vantablack that surrounds him. There's a sound, a shattering of glass that makes Tyler jump out of his body before he finds himself turning to find the source. 

" _Josh_..." 

Tyler knows the distorted sound like the back of his hand, knows the way that the echo falls in on itself like a collapsing of a star. It burns bright until it vanishes out, just as Tyler himself is doing. It's a process of creating and collapsing, a process of igniting and burning out. Tyler's ruining himself, this he knows; the stuttering of his ink-covered fingertips across the sheets of notebook paper, the holding of breaths as he watches the world spin around him. He doesn't fall into place like the pieces of a puzzle, not in the way that he used to. He used to fit reality like a perfect rhyme, he wasn't normal but he was unique and that gave him something to grasp on to. With prying eyes, he's not sure if it does anymore. 

" _Your uniqueness is nothing_." The words are spit at him from the dark, his hands shaking as his head tips and he searches, he searches for the home of the voice. Home? " _You're just like everyone else, Tyler. You don't deserve this, you don't deserve the attention or the fame or the success. You deserve to suffer, just like they did. Just like they_ do _._ "

It's like a mirror, the reflection back at him that almost appears out of thin air. Tyler would think it's a mirror, though when he reaches out, inky black hands wrap around his wrist and red eyes snap to meet his. " _Don't_."

"Who are you?" The words die on his tongue as he says them; Tyler knows exactly who he is. He knows the pudge of the cheeks against the sharp contours of the nose, he knows the deep sunken-in look of the eyes as the bags beneath them stand out even in the lightless place. He knows the hand, the soft hand that wraps around his wrist and stains his skin. " _What_ are you?" He knows the voice before it comes, knows the way it's buried beneath the distortion and echoes through the space of Tyler's chest. It nestles itself into his ribs, sharp claws wrapping around his heart and squeezing tight. He can't breathe. 

" _You know exactly what I am_ ," The voice practically purrs, his voice. That's his voice. This person, this _thing_ - It's him. " _You're right, Tyler. I'm you. I'm the you that you've so desperately begged to not become. The oh-so-tortured soul that you keep begging God to not let you become... It appears, yet again, he's not listening. Yet, you still believe._ " The judge. He's the judge, He's the man that will bring upon Tyler's day of reckoning. He's the one who will save Tyler's soul when all is said and done, who will wash away the guilt and bring peace upon his soul. 

" _Oh, you are_ pathetic." The distortion kills his ears, he winces and falters as the voice roars at him. It doesn't get any louder, but it pierces him in a way that it hasn't before. He swallows thick and lets his eyelids flutter shut, long eyelashes against his cheeks as he stares at the back of his eyelids. " _He's not going to help you. Your God? He's going to do nothing but watch you fail, Tyler. You're going to fail, and He's going to let it happen._ " Failure. The word stings as it trapezes through Tyler's mind, and the _thing_ ahead of him sneers, a smirk lifting itself up onto the corner of his lips as he stares at Tyler. 

" _Your failure... You've been thinking about it a lot, haven't you? It's why you feel as if you can't speak anymore. Can't_ sing _. Can't do your shitty little raps, where you insist that 'this is not rap, this is not hip-hop'. It's just another attempt to make the voices stop. But do they, Tyler? Do they stop?"_  He juts his head out, avoids opening his eyes even if he so desperately wants to stare the man down, " _They have such high expectations for you, you gave them an album that they loved and now you're expected to, what? Go bigger. Get better. You're going to fail them, Tyler. You're going to disappoint every single one of them, and then, you know what happens?_ " A whimper escapes Tyler's throat as sharp fingernails dig into the skin of his wrist. The skin is breaking, he can feel it, and he can feel the dark, inky substance soaking into the open wound. " _You lose all of them_ ," The thing claims, " _You lose every single one of them when that happens_. _You lose_ Josh _when that happens_."

Tyler's eyes open, caramel brown meeting vermillion. They stare each other down easily, one body rigid and sharp as it stares down a faltering, breath-stuttering image of a beaten vessel. "I won't lose Josh. I won't lose _anyone_ ," He tries, he tries even as his voice shakes and his fingers twitch and he rolls his head uncertainly to try to rid himself of the pain in his neck. "I can't."

" _You can. And you_ will _._ " The black hand drops Tyler's wrist, his own wrist which is coated in the paint. He brings both of them up to his vision, his own hands mirror the color of the man's in front of him. He swallows thickly around the growing lump in his throat, his vision blurring with unshed tears as he stares at the black palm that faces back at him. He can barely see it, disappearing into the darkness. He doesn't know where the darkness ends and his hands begin. 

"You--What did you do?" 

" _Me?_ " The voice sneers, distortion washing over Tyler again. It slams against him each time, breaks over him like a cool black-sea wave. " _I didn't do this, Tyler._ " He feels like he's the prey of some larger than life creature, feels like he's the center of attention for something so dark and dreary that not even his twisted mind can fully process it. He feels like he's doing to die here, in this darkness with a phantom hand wrapped around his throat and inky black hands and and _and_. " _You did this, Tyler. This is all of your creation._

" _I am your creation_." 

His whole body shakes alive, darkness vanishing around his peripheral as he becomes a piece of the world again. It's dark, just as dark as it had been before but as Tyler reaches out, finding the lamp on the nightstand. The world becomes illuminated, warm fluorescent light. Tyler can see the shapes of the world around him, can make out the piano in the corner of his room and the old dresser that belonged to his family prior to moving out. He can make out the design of his sheets, the way they're rumpled around his body from the thrashing he assumes he'd dealt with throughout the night. Reaching out for his phone on the nightstand, Tyler fumbles for Josh's contact before hovering over the call button. It takes a few long moments before he finally presses the button. 

Three AM in Columbus means it's midnight in Los Angeles. Josh picks up on the third ring. 

" _Hello?_ " His voice is muffled, exhaustion seeping through his tone. 

"You don't hate me, do you?"

Josh scoffs on the other end of the line, " _What? What are you even talking about?_ " 

"If this- we- I fail... You won't leave, will you?" 

There's a silence on the other end of the line, one that lingers long enough to curl around Tyler's ribs and pull at the strings of his heart. " _Tyler_ ," Josh's voice finally breaks through the darkness that curls in Tyler's chest, swirls around his heart as he settles into the silence, " _I'm not leaving. Don't you remember?_ " 

"Remember what?" Tyler can practically hear the smile that crosses Josh's expression, the tired smile that he gives Tyler whenever they're sat next to each other preparing for an early morning interview or when they stop for breakfast when there's nothing to eat on the bus. 

" _I don't have a plan B. You'll always be my plan A. twenty one pilots is always going to be my plan A,_ " He breathes out easily, dissipating all of the negative energy in Tyler's chest. It melts into serenity, a peace that washes over Tyler like the warm waves on a sunny day. " _Even if this album fails, which, by the looks of what you've written so far and by the rough demos I've gotten, won't, I'll be around and we'll just try again._ "

A silence lingers between them, and Tyler clenches his jaw as he stares at the popcorn ceiling above him. "Josh?" He finally asks, voice quiet and calm. 

" _Yeah, Ty?_ " 

"Sorry for waking you." Another grin he can make out from the way Josh's breath shifts, can hear Josh rolling over in the sheets from the way they rustle beneath his weight. 

" _'s okay. I'm always around for you._ " Tyler mimics the grin that he knows occupies Josh's face, " _I'm going to get some sleep now, if that's okay._ "

"Yeah," Tyler nods, clearing his throat when he realizes that Josh can't see him, "Yeah, of course. Love you, man. I'll talk to you in the morning." 

" _Love you, Ty._ " The click of the call ending is a relief that Tyler didn't know he needed, the sound of Josh's voice a relief his heart yearned for so desperately. He can tell Josh about the nightmare in the morning, can bat away Josh's incessant prodding that _maybe_ he should see a therapist, and things will be normal again. Tyler shifts in the bed, rolling his weight to his side as he lets his eyes flutter shut once more, willing himself to sleep. It comes, after a few long hours of sitting in silence, lamp still turned on even as he finally disappears back into his subconscious and early morning daylight flutters through the cracks of his blinds. 

**Author's Note:**

> [litost](https://open.spotify.com/track/7HyvbdOddwXEGzKoLNxhKG?si=wR9Ux6sVTRaDVYljXGqNlQ): "a state of torment created by the sudden sight of one’s own misery."
> 
> trying something new. if it doesn't make sense, sorry. a lot of things don't.
> 
> [tumblr](http://clancies.tumblr.com/).


End file.
